


Seeing Red

by lamardeuse



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-22
Updated: 2010-04-22
Packaged: 2017-10-09 02:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamardeuse/pseuds/lamardeuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"<em>Tourists</em> did this to you?  What the hell were they, armed?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeing Red

**Author's Note:**

> Written for due South Flashfiction on Livejournal (whomping Fraser challenge).

“Ray, that’s really unnecessary—”

“Quit squirming.  You put this smelly crap on me when I was bleeding, turnaround is fair ball.”

“I think you mean to say—”

“Shaddup.  I know what the right words are, just don’t feel like saying ‘em.  Tilt your chin up.”

    
 

“So explain to me again how you ended up like this?  Turnbull wouldn’t tell me, and the Ice Queen was laughing too hard.  Funny, I’da never guessed she could laugh like that.”

“Mmph.”

“Sorry.  Told you that stuff stinks.  Here, I’ll wipe it off.”

    
 

“There.  So.  You, cut and bruised, the uniform all disgraced and dirty?  Let’s hear it.”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Jeez, now you got me worried.  C’mon, you can tell me.”

    
 

“Don’t make me sic the turtle on you.”

“You’ll only laugh.”

“Cross my heart.  Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a—”

“Give, already!”

“They really didn’t mean any harm.”

“Who did?”

“The tourists.”

“…!  _Tourists _did this to you?  What the hell were they, armed?”

“They were…determined.  And Japanese.”

“What does being Japanese got to do with it?”

“Nothing, only that I believe that young Japanese girls are rather strictly controlled in their own culture, and so when they are visiting another country, certain allowances must be made for the resultant loss of societal pressures—”

“Waittaminute.  Young girls?  How young?”

“They were of assorted ages.  Fifteen to seventeen, I’d say.”

“And they jumped you?”

“They were—rather eager to touch the uniform.  Apparently they’d just arrived from Ottawa, and were bitterly disappointed that they’d missed the changing of the…it’s not important.  And then…well…the situation deteriorated.”

“Jeez, Frase, that’s not a nightmare, that’s a porn flick waiting to happen.  One guy and—how many?”

“Eleven.”

“Eleven teenage girls, in the prime of their—whatever?  Man.”

“Ray.  That’s—”

“Yeah, I’m a p-i-g pig.”

“At least.  And it was as far from erotic as one could imagine.”

“God, I found another cut.  C’mere.”

    
 

“So what _do_ you find erotic, Frase?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.  My mouth is three inches from your ear.”

“I—ah—”

“Sorry, not what you’d call a buddy question, is it?”

“You’ve never been what I’d call—traditional—in that respect.”

“Huh.  Yeah, so what the hell, right?  So?”

“Well.  I find—many things erotic.  Poetry.  Certain paintings by Klimt and O’Keefe—”

“Zzzz, Fraser, I’m noddin’ off, here.  Get your head out of the museum and into the gutter.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“Jeez, did I say that?  I’m just sayin’, there must be other things, too.  Things that involve a living, breathing human being someplace close by.”

“Yes, well…proximity is…a factor.”

“A factor?  What are we doing, math?  A factor in what?  You telling me that if a stranger rubs up against you on the El, bang, you’re good to go?”

“Hardly.”

    
 

“It helps to…know the person well.  To respect them.”

“Hunh.  Okay.  Makes sense.”

“I also…respond to kindness.  And a generous heart.”

“Yeah, go on.  Oh, wait, unbutton this, willya?  Man, how did they do _that_?”

“The—ah—the juxtaposition of—”

“The _whatsis_?”

“The—contrast—and complexity—of a person who wears a tough skin for protection from the blows of—life.  A glimpse of the inner—person is erotic to me, perhaps because I can pretend for a moment that I’m the only person who understands, who sees that truth.”

    
 

“Ray?”

“You—”

“Your hands are shaking.”

“Yeah, uh—”

  


    
 

  
“Don’t worry, Ray.  You’re in no danger.”

“Says you.”

“Oh—”

    
 

“It’s me, isn’t it?  Say it’s me, dammit.”

“Dear lord, Ray—”

“—Please—”

“It’s you, it’s—mmph—”

“Jeez, sorry, sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No.  You never have.”

“Except—”

“Don’t.  Let’s—begin here.”

“With crazy Japanese tourist groupies?  Sounds about right for us.  But it’s too bad you didn’t get any of their names.  I would’ve liked to have sent them a thank you card.”

“Well, as it happens, Ray…”

“Jesus Christ.  They _wrote…there_?”

“Yes.  My Japanese is a little rusty, but I believe I can decipher it.  However, I’ll need a mirror…”

**Author's Note:**

> First published March 2004.


End file.
